Loryn was left speechless for a few seconds, while Aelith helped Daion down from the remnants of the battlefield. Little by little, the corpses dissolved into corrupted energy, dispersing into the air like dark smoke.
Daion's armor no longer existed—only a few torn pieces of cloth remained, slightly revealing his chest and abdomen. His cloak lay shredded on the ground.
He was breathing heavily, scanning the surroundings with a mixture of exhaustion and curiosity. Something was stirring in his mind—an idea, a premonition.
Aelith looked at him with both awe and wariness. He had defeated an entire army of corrupted beings… and was still in one piece.
Loryn approached cautiously.
"How are you still alive?" he asked bluntly.
Daion lifted his gaze, searching for the right words before answering.
"I'm not even sure myself," he admitted. "I just started fighting with everything I had… and at some point, I lost track of the battle." He leaned back against the wall, utterly drained. "I guess I got used to fighting for hours because of my past. Besides, those ice-corrupted ones were losing energy from the heat."
"Even so—" Loryn began, but Daion interrupted, as if suddenly remembering something.
"Oh, right… my wounds healed during the first hour of the fight."
Loryn grew pensive. His mind quickly pieced the information together.
"I see…" he murmured. "Your rank ascension must have pushed your body beyond its limits. For a brief moment, it granted you the strength needed to turn the battle around."
Daion tilted his head, puzzled.
"Are you sure? Because when I reached Rank E, I almost died. I didn't magically heal back then." His tone carried clear skepticism as he tried to stand up.
"The circumstances were different," Loryn explained, analyzing the air, still saturated with energy. "You were surrounded by an absurd concentration of corruption. When your body ascended, its energy consumption multiplied. In other words, you absorbed that energy to stay alive until the process finished."
Daion didn't fully understand, but nodded with a sigh. The explanation didn't change the fact that he was still standing.
"Alright," Loryn said, regaining composure. "We need to get out of here as soon as possible."
"Wait," Aelith interjected, trembling slightly. "We don't know how long we were unconscious. It could've been an hour… or several days."
Loryn frowned.
"You're right. If too much time has passed, we might have—"
A sharp clap interrupted his thoughts. Daion was smiling confidently, that familiar spark of defiance gleaming in his eyes.
"None of that matters," he declared firmly.
Loryn and Aelith both turned toward him in surprise. Daion lifted his gaze, his voice charged with determination.
"As long as we still have time," he said, pressing his sword into the ground with force, "we'll make this place our battlefield."
Loryn widened his eyes and looked around. The area was enormous—deep enough that Thaloren wouldn't destroy anything important. But there was one clear problem.
"How the hell do you expect the Behemoth to get down here?" he asked, frowning.
"Simple," Daion replied with confidence. "A trap." He turned to Loryn and motioned for him to aim his rifle toward the ceiling. "Can you measure the distance?"
Loryn pulled the trigger and closed his eyes to focus. The bullet echoed a moment later as it struck the ceiling.
"One hundred and twenty meters," he said thoughtfully. He estimated they were about a hundred and fifty meters underground. Daion nodded calmly.
"We just need to break through thirty meters," Daion said with a faint smile. "That's all."
Loryn nodded, and the two of them turned around.
"I'll explain everything in detail once we're outside and know how much time we have left," Daion added.
The trio moved through the area. Though the corrupted army and the ice general were gone, the dungeon still exuded an intense, freezing cold. Daion wondered whether that temperature would affect Thaloren's battle.
They exited the main chamber. Loryn absorbed the general's remains, receiving a powerful surge of energy that restored some of his vitality. Then they continued down the corridor until they came upon the same corrupted beast as before. Its body was half-decayed, releasing a putrid stench that made Aelith recoil instinctively—though summoned beings couldn't fully perceive it.
They approached, placing their hands on the corpse. Loryn grimaced in disgust, but Daion remained still, eyes fixed, unflinching. He seemed almost entranced, processing so much information that his mind threatened to collapse as the corrupted energy spread through his body.
Did he remember something? Loryn wondered, gritting his teeth. If his behavior starts reflecting old traumas… what then?
Daion, meanwhile, was trying to calm himself as he absorbed the incoming energy. He didn't understand why he suddenly felt more confident—fragments of his memory were beginning to return, which, in theory, should have only confused him further.
The beast evaporated completely. Daion felt far less energy than he expected and looked at his arm warily.
"It's been dead for several days," Loryn began. "It lost most of its energy through decomposition."
Daion nodded, and both of them looked upward. The question now was: how the hell were they going to get out of there?
"It's about a hundred and thirty meters to the exit," Daion murmured. "There's no way we can just climb it."
Aelith looked around, searching for anything that might help them. Daion watched her for a few seconds, then imitated her, scanning the walls carefully.
Loryn spotted a small semicircular indentation in the rock. He drew his rifle and fired at it. The wall gave way, revealing a long spiral staircase winding upward around the shaft.
"So that's how they were shooting at us from the walls," Daion deduced, sighing as he realized how many steps they would have to climb.
Aelith stared at the staircase uneasily. Her limbs were much better now, but climbing that much—with her body still aching—would only cause more pain. She swallowed hard and stepped forward with resignation, until Daion knelt down and hunched his back.
"Eh?" Aelith asked, confused.
"Get on," Daion said.
"But… I don't need—"
"Seriously? You'd rather force yourself to climb a building with a wrecked body than accept help?" Daion asked.
She fell silent, then reluctantly climbed onto his back. Daion stood, adjusted his legs, secured her in place, and the three of them began to move.
It took them nearly fifty minutes to climb the entire staircase. Loryn kept a close eye on his arm, avoiding any movement that might worsen the fracture. Finally, they emerged from between the walls and reached the ledge that had once led to the beast's nest.
Hours later, thanks to Loryn's sharp memory of the path, they managed to reach the dungeon's entrance without any problems.
Daion set Aelith down on the ground. She got on all fours and moved away cautiously, a faint blush coloring her face. Daion glanced at her from the corner of his eye and smiled to himself before continuing.
But Loryn suddenly stopped him, aiming his rifle straight at him.
"Your stats," Loryn demanded.
Daion raised an eyebrow and, with a sigh, tapped the gem embedded in his gauntlet twice. A glowing screen materialized before them, displaying his current data.
[Summoned's Stats]
• Strength: Level 39 (Gigantic)
• Dexterity: Level 31 (Rogue)
• Endurance: Level 38 (Sunfish)
• Agility: Level 35 (Blue)
• Intelligence: Level 19 (Shrewd)
[Divine Artifacts]
• Sword of Punishment (Rank D)
• Omega Gauntlet (Rank D)
• Assault Armor (Rank F) – Completely Destroyed
[Summoned's Evaluation]
• Omega Energy Absorbed: 4500Ω
• Level: 21
• Rank: Adept
[Abilities]
• Sword Manipulation – Level 3
Daion was surprised to see, for the first time, a registered ability among his stats—and even more astonished by the overwhelming growth in all his parameters.
Loryn stared at the screen, his hands trembling slightly. One thing was clear: Daion had achieved in a few days what usually took months—perhaps even years.
Normally, Rank C is reached after absorbing around 5000Ω… this is unprecedented. His eyes widened as a fleeting thought crossed his mind. Talent… or divine intervention?
He looked up toward the sky, knowing that the Primordial of Gravity must be watching them.
Daion pulled him out of his thoughts as he started walking. They left the dungeon without incident. The air outside felt cleaner—almost lighter—as if the surroundings had been purified along with the corrupted. He looked around; everything was calm. Not a single enemy or summoned creature in sight.
"So they're retreating…" Daion muttered, narrowing his eyes.
The trio advanced across the wasteland until they finally spotted the fortress in the distance. But what they saw left them stunned: a massive crowd had gathered at the gates.
Soldiers and summoned warriors from the frontier were shouting toward the sky, demanding answers, while the fortress doors remained tightly shut, blocking entry. Daion guessed they didn't dare to force their way in and risk a confrontation with the Divine Guild.
He let out a weary sigh, frowning.
Great… just what I needed. More bureaucratic nonsense, he thought in irritation.
As they approached the crowd, Daion spotted familiar faces—Ken and his team.
"What's going on?" he asked, coming up behind them.
Ken spun around, his face pale, as if he had just seen a ghost.
"You're alive!" he exclaimed, astonished.
The rest of his group turned as well. Amelie and Brut were with him, which brought Daion some relief to see them unharmed. And among them stood Marui… the very person he needed to find.
"By the Primordials… we thought you were dead," Ken continued, still in disbelief.
Daion studied him in silence; his surprise seemed genuine—something rare for someone as calculating as Ken.
"How long were we gone?" Daion asked bluntly.
Ken hesitated for a second before replying.
"Fifteen days."
A chill ran through both Daion and Loryn at once. There was no doubt—they had surpassed the time limit. Loryn glanced at Daion from the corner of his eye; now he understood that this man had been fighting without rest for days on end. No normal human could have endured that.
"In fact, most people are preparing to leave," Ken added with resignation. "No one wants to stay here just to die. But the Divine Guild… refuses to pay."
Daion nodded slowly. He didn't quite understand why—the deadline had passed, so they should've handed over the rewards and withdrawn the commanders.
He sighed and began to move forward through the crowd. As he passed, whispers spread like ripples through the sea of people. Some glanced at him in disbelief; others simply stepped aside, awed by the pressure radiating from his body. He was alive… and his aura now belonged to a Rank D.
When he reached the fortress gates, Daion stopped. He clapped his hands once—firmly. The echo rolled across the open grounds like thunder, amplified by his newly gained strength. His eyes scanned the crowd until he found the man he was looking for.
Thaloren emerged from among the masses, his very presence parting them as he approached. Seeing him, Daion smiled calmly and nodded. The Rank S summon moved toward the gate, his towering form imposing over everyone present.
Then Daion raised his voice.
"Seraphine!"
The call thundered like a roar. The voice of a god incarnate spread through the fortress, reverberating across the walls and into the souls of all who still had the courage to remain.
Daion smiled faintly as he noticed the sudden silence that fell over the place. His gaze swept over the crowd—fewer than before, but still enough. It wouldn't be impossible. Then his eyes turned toward the wall, where a woman was approaching, watching him with clear wariness. The summoned man gave her an arrogant grin.
"Well, look who's alive, miss," Daion mocked, spreading his arms with a smirk.
"Oh, unbelievable… you're even more insolent than before," the woman replied, tilting her head with disdain. "And on top of not being dead—which I deeply regret—you're five days late."
Daion chuckled, amused by her tone.
"I'm sorry to disappoint you with my survival," he said calmly. "But I think we have more urgent problems than worrying about my punctuality. I've met the conditions to fight."
Seraphine shuddered slightly.
This man… his entire demeanor changed in just a few days. What the hell happened to him? she thought, noticing how everyone around them was waiting for her response.
"It's a shame the Divine Guild doesn't share your enthusiasm," she finally said, her voice dripping with irony and frustration as she looked down at him. "You exceeded the time limit. We're preparing to withdraw, and to all summoned here, let it be known—this month's payments will not be issued. There will no longer be a frontier to defend."
A murmur of outrage spread among the summoned, bursting into a wave of protests against her. Some tried to blame Daion, but he ignored them entirely. Seraphine sighed and turned away, while Daion kept a faint smile, already calculating the new possibilities unfolding before him.
"Hey, idiots!" the summoned suddenly shouted.
He stepped forward, right in front of the gate, making sure everyone could see him. Seraphine stopped and looked back at him, smiling faintly to herself.
"Are you really that focused on your pay," Daion's voice thundered, "when you're all about to die?"
The uproar died instantly.
The summoned ones fell silent and stared at him.
Daion watched them from the top of the stairs; he knew perfectly well he had never led even a single squad—and that he hated doing so. But right now, he was the only one with a plan… and the slightest chance of making it work.
He took a deep breath, closing his eyes.
Calm down, he told himself. It's not enough to be right… you have to convince them that only you can save them.
"Does anyone know what will happen if the border falls?" Daion asked gravely.
The summoned looked at one another.
"You've seen the noble's power," he continued. "Tell me—if that creature crossed the border, would we stand any chance? And what about the horde of corrupted that would come crashing down on us?"
"So what are you suggesting? That we stay here and kill ourselves?" Yair retorted, stepping forward from the crowd and eyeing Daion suspiciously. "If we stay, we die. If we leave, we die. The only reasonable choice is to retreat and ask the capital to send the Warlord."
Daion froze for a moment at his words.
Is there really anyone capable of defeating the noble directly? he wondered, watching as the others began to nod. Don't lose your composure… they're just scared.
"No," he said firmly. "I'm not proposing we fight out of desperation—but with strategy."
Murmurs spread among the crowd, skeptical, as if he had spoken madness.
"I've seen it myself—there's a way to win. We know the day they'll arrive. If we set a trap, we might not just stop them… we could actually defeat them."
"And what do you plan to do about the noble?" someone asked from the back; that was the real question.
Daion looked at Marui, who widened his eyes in surprise.
"Let's just say I know someone who can help us," Daion replied. "And it'll be clear who's going to face the noble."
He turned his gaze to Thaloren; the crowd exchanged uneasy looks.
"I know it doesn't sound good, after seeing how the noble defeated him," Daion admitted, "but there's no one else with a real chance of winning. As for the noble's second-in-command… I'll take care of him myself."
The murmur grew into a wave of voices.
Many noticed the faint glow on Daion's glove and weapon—and realized he had ranked up. The crowd stirred, hesitant. Daion smiled faintly, fixing his gaze on Seraphine; she looked back with a near-sadistic grin, baring her teeth.
Does she think I've fallen into her game? Daion thought, steeling himself for the final push. Money, power, honor… and love for their families.
"It's dangerous," he warned. "I can't promise survival. But you all knew that when you came to the border." He stepped forward, spreading his arms with confidence. "You wouldn't have come to the most dangerous place in the continent without reason. Those who fight will have access to an unprecedented amount of Omega energy to absorb. Those who survive will return as heroes—able to protect their families, or at least give them more time than running to die. This could be the first time humans fight back against the corrupted and actually win! We can push forward for once! And I'm sure the Divine Guild will reward the champions handsomely… right, Lady Seraphine?"
Daion pointed at her.
All eyes turned toward the woman.
Is this fool even aware of how much he already owes me? Seraphine smiled with firm resolve. He's lucky it doesn't suit me for the border to fall—but I shouldn't give him another favor without a contract.
"Why not?" she said with absurd confidence. "If you succeed, I'll pay each of you between one hundred and ten thousand vayls per monster, depending on its category."
Daion knew she had made up her mind long before this.
The summoned exchanged glances; the offer was tempting. Some shifted nervously. But Daion knew—if they had stayed this long, it meant they already believed there was something worth fighting for.
Still, no one moved.
Daion held his gaze firm, breathing tensely. Then Ken stepped forward, followed by his companions. Even Amelie seemed in agreement—and most importantly, Marui nodded. Thaloren took a step forward too, meeting Daion's eyes with determination. Loryn and Aelith joined him at his sides.
When the others saw the strongest summoned ones standing behind Daion's plan, the rest followed more easily.
Before he realized it, nearly everyone had chosen to fight. Those who hadn't simply stared at the ground, uneasy.
Daion smiled, satisfied.
"Hey!" he shouted at Seraphine. "Bitch, open the gates—we've got a war to prepare. You'll convince the War Council, won't you?"
"Of course," she replied shamelessly. "Though I think I already have."
She snapped her fingers, and the massive doors began to open.
The cheers died instantly—replaced by a stunned silence as the stench of blood flooded the air.
Daion's eyes widened. He knew Seraphine was sadistic, but this… this was something else entirely.
In the courtyard, a body hung impaled on a spear—Alacard's lifeless form suspended in the air, his dead eyes staring at them, his white beard completely stained red.
Daion's gaze dropped to the ground, where the dismembered remains of the other three generals—those who had voted against fighting—lay scattered, their severed heads arranged like stones around the spear. At the back, Aria trembled, covered in blood.
From the smell and the state of decay, Daion immediately realized they'd been dead for days.
He looked at Seraphine. She had already made sure everything went her way. The woman smiled, a silent warning.
Keep that in mind, pretty summoned one, she thought, and Daion was certain she didn't need to say it aloud. If you screw this up, your entrails will decorate my courtyard.
"Well then, Daion, summoned of rank D," she said with fake sweetness. "What's the plan?"
Daion could only stare back at her fiercely—but he couldn't hide the trembling in his eyes and hands.
End of Chapter 39